A Healer's Touch
by lycanus1
Summary: Where a late night visit to a healer becomes something more ... *WARNING: contains mild slash & strong language. AU. Revised version - original deleted in error*


**Summary:** Where a late night visit to a healer becomes something more ...

**Disclaimer:** Sadly, Messrs Bruckheimer and Kripke absolutely refuse to part with them. They're _still_ not mine - although not for the want of a great deal of wishing, hoping, praying and trying ...

**Warning:** _Contains very mild slash and strong language. AU and pretty o.o.c. _**A/N: **Companion piece to _"Weapons Check."_

_**XXXXXXXXX**_

**A Healer's Touch**

It was late at night and although he was dog-tired, sleep was proving to be elusive. The tall, powerfully built Roxolani turned agitatedly, the bedcovers slipping and tangling around his lithe, muscular body, accentuating strong, toned thighs and long legs. He sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose, before wearily rubbing his eyes with the callused thumb and forefinger of his right hand. Dagonet gazed blindly at the ceiling and silently mulled over the events of the past few weeks. Of the mysterious arrival of the two newcomers to the garrison. Father and son. Both charismatic, intelligent, broodingly attractive. And both skilled fighters who carried an air of danger.

Hunters. Yet, hunters unlike any other he'd come across ... for their prey was not of the usual kind. But that of the realms of darkness. The unknown ...

It soon became clear that the younger of the pair had captured and held the Scout's interest. Ever mystical, Tristan had always been enthralled by anything and everything spiritual or beyond man's logical comprehension. Fascinated by paganism, blood and death, the Aorsi had been drawn immediately to the tall, handsome, green-eyed man and his interest had been reciprocated. Dean was everything the bloodthirsty Sarmatian was not. Open, impatient, reckless, friendly and fun-loving. Yet, despite their differences, the pull - the attraction - they felt for each other was strong. Full of passion ... and desire.

But it was the father who puzzled Dagonet. Confused, yet beguiled him.

Where the son was beautiful, the elder was ruggedly handsome. Tall - though slightly shorter than himself - he was lean, yet muscular and hadn't developed the excess weight carried by men of his age. Short, thick, dark hair, greying at the temples and a neatly trimmed beard streaked with silver combined with highly intelligent, ever observant, hooded amber eyes that held a wealth of wisdom, experience and sorrow only heightened the Healer's attraction to the older man. And Dagonet was drawn to him, despite himself. Helplessly. And irresistibly so. It wasn't the fact that the proud, taciturn, fiery, bearded Hunter was - excluding their resident deathdealing Aorsi Scout - one of the most dangerous men he'd ever met ... a natural born killer, that prevented Dagonet from making his acquaintance. What kept the scarred, cropped-haired warrior away from him was his affliction. Something he'd suffered from since childhood. Crippling, paralysing shyness.

Dagonet groaned softly, his hand slipped beneath the coarse cloth that skimmed lean hips and slowly trailed towards his aching arousal. Biting down on his lower lip, he palmed the hard, thick length before slowly curling dexterous fingers around it. He began to stroke himself, gently at first then, as the image of the man who'd taken over his dreams over the past week or so became clearer and increasingly vivid, the strokes became firmer. Surer. More confident ...

He could hear the rasp of the Hunter's deep, husky voice in his head and it sent a shudder of longing through his powerful frame. He yearned for ... wanted the enigmatic stranger. Desired him more than anything, or anyone, in his entire life. Yet, he'd _never_ act upon it. Would _never _make his feelings known. Would hide and guard his thoughts from everyone. Concealing them - burying them deep within his heart - especially from the man which they revolved around. The one he was beginning to care for deeply. The one he could easily see himself giving his heart, body and soul to. Of his own free will ... if he would only allow himself.

The image of the austere, formidable Hunter gradually changed. His stunning red-gold eyes burned with passion. With warmth and humour. And he was smiling. Happily. Contentedly. All traces of sorrow and pain gone. Leaving no trace of the man who carried the weight of the world upon his shoulders. No burden of grief, pain or loss. Just a boyishly, darkly handsome man who'd finally discovered his salvation. His safe haven. His Avalon ...

And that was the catalyst which brought the shy, rugged Sarmatian to his release. What left him lying slumped weakly - yet not quite sated - upon his large, fur-covered bed. Silver eyes glazed and darkened with desire and longing. Flushed, broad chest rising and falling erratically and panting shallowly for air.

A sharp, urgent knocking on his chamber door reluctantly drew the Healer from his daze. Flustered, Dagonet rubbed his nape before hastily wrapping the coarse sheet around his waist to cover his nudity. He rose wearily from the bed and reached for a torch which still burned fiercely and headed for the door. Cautiously, he opened it and a tall figure stumbled into the room.

"Help me ... Please ..."

_**XXXXX**_

At first, the Healer recoiled. Then, after closer inspection, Dagonet recognized the intruder and began to relax. He reached out his free hand to steady the man, then carefully wrapped an arm around his waist before slowly, leading him to and gently easing him onto the bed. Silently, Dagonet lit the remaining torches attached to the chamber walls to provide more light, then slowly turned to face the older Hunter. Somehow, he managed to supress the shocked gasp which threatened to escape from his lips, but his silver eyes widened in horror as he took in the extent and severity of the bloody, gaping wounds on the other man's back.

"I'm told you're a healer. The best ..." the man rasped, raising his head to look at Dagonet through pain-filled, shrewd eyes. The tall Roxolani began to blush and slowly nodded.

"I ... I'm a healer," he admitted softly, "but as for being the best ... ?" He shook his head in vehement denial.

"I hear from your brethren - your fellow knights - that you're exceptionally gifted in the art of healing. Of tending wounds. I _need _your help. Please ... ? I can't go to my son ... He can't know I've been on a hunt without him."

Dagonet watched him silently. Although battered, bloody and bruised, the Hunter remained unbowed. Defiant. And unrepentant. He was also the most strikingly beautiful thing the Sarmatian had ever laid eyes upon, despite the freely bleeding wound to his right temple. Dagonet moved away to a small table in the corner of the room and returned shortly with a bowl of fresh water, a clean cloth and a hunting knife.

"Take off your shirt," Dagonet said quietly as he perched uneasily on the bed. "I ... uh, I need to check your wounds ... To see the damage ..."

The Hunter nodded and began to slowly unbutton the ruined plaid shirt. He gasped sharply as he shrugged off the garment. The sudden movement swiftly drained all colour from his handsome face. Hesitantly, he began to peel away the black, blood-soaked t-shirt that clung to his muscular torso and growled softly with pain as the material stuck to his skin. Dagonet immediately stayed his hand with his own.

"Hold still ... Don't move ..." He reached for the knife and carefully used it to cut the stubborn material away from the Hunter's body then, taking the utmost care, peeled the cloth away from the wounds. Dagonet tossed the bloody garment onto the floor, placed the knife down on the bedcovers and dipped the cloth into the water. He began to wash the man's back with a gentle reverence, wiping the caked blood away until only the long, deep, painful gashes remained, marring the smooth, tanned skin.

"What caused these wounds ?" he asked softly, consumed by curiosity. "I've never seen their like before." He lightly traced an index finger around the largest wound. Appraising it. "They're unlike any wound caused by a blade that I've come across ..."

"Demon ... It was a demon. A particularly vicious, bloodthirsty bastard ... It won't cause any more trouble. Made damn sure of that- "

"And nearly got yourself fucking killed in the process !" Dagonet blurted without thinking. The Hunter turned to look at him with mild curiosity. Enbarrassed, Dagonet suddenly dipped his head to avoid the man's interested gaze.

"Name's John ..." he offered suddenly. He held out his hand and patiently waited for the wary Healer to take it.

"Dagonet ... Dag ..."

_**XXXXX**_

John grinned lazily as he studied the confused younger man. Dagonet cautiously took his hand and inhaled sharply. As soon as they'd come into physical contact with each other, both men had become aware of the powerful surge of attraction that suddenly flared between them. It was like pure energy. Strong. Potent. And undeniable ... John saw the mutual realization dawn in the Healer's startled, stunning silver eyes. Eyes which still remained pure, innocent and guile-free, albeit shrewd and full of wisdom.

The quiet, painfully shy knight intrigued him. Made him feel something he hadn't felt for years for another living soul. Desire. An all-consuming hunger. And a need to care for and protect someone who wasn't of his own flesh and blood. He coveted the gifted Roxolani. Wanted a man who was eight years older than his eldest son, with a passion that he hadn't felt since the loss of his wife. It burned within him. Fiercely. A longing which had him aching desperately with an intense need that he found impossible to ignore.

He clearly remembered the first time he'd laid eyes on the tall Sarmatian. It had been at the tavern. All of the remaining five Sarmatian knights had been present. The youngest pair, from the Halani tribe, had been playing a knife game with the striking Aorsi Scout. The darkly handsome Iazyges had been flirting outrageously with the beautiful redhead who owned the tavern, much to her lover's - an older, stocky Roxolani - increasing anger. He needn't have worried, as the woman was a shrewd judge of character and swiftly slapped her admirer into place.

Then he saw him. Standing quietly in the shadows, cradling a tankard of mead, observing his brethren fondly yet making no move to join them. His manner was wary. Shy. Wolf-like. And although the strapping, cropped-haired knight melted into the shadows, John had been increasingly aware of his presence and had been mesmerized by him.

"Good to finally put a face to the name ..." he murmured, boldly meeting the younger man's gaze head on. His index finger rested upon the Sarmatian's pulse-point and he could feel it racing frantically. Colour faintly stained Dagonet's high cheekbones and his pupils were dilated. John reluctantly released the beautifully shaped hand from his grasp, slowly and deliberately raking his forefinger across Dagonet's palm. Dagonet's breath hitched.

"In answer to your question, these weren't made by a blade. They're claw marks ..."

"Claw marks ... ? _No_ animal could possibly have done these ..." Dagonet breathed in awe, his attention returning and fixing firmly on the livid wounds upon his patient's back.

"Like I said, this was no animal. It was a demon ..." John hissed sharply as he felt Dagonet's fingers skim across his skin. The man's touch burned, sending trails of fire directly to his loins. It inflamed yet oddly, soothed him. He unconsciously leant into it.

"Uh, sorry ..." Dagonet murmured huskily. He paused uncertainly, his long, callused fingers splayed upon the torn skin.

"Don't be ... How bad is it ?" John slowly turned his head to look at the Healer over a broad shoulder. Dagonet had a look of fierce concentration on his ruggedly attractive face.

"Some are worse than others. Two_ will _need suturing. The rest should heal well on their own. So long as they're cleaned thoroughly and don't get infected ..." He rose with a silent grace to his feet and moved to where he kept a large, leather saddlebag, which he brought back to the bed. He began to root through the bag and pulled out a suturing kit and a large tub of salve. "This will hurt ... a lot. I can give you some poppy juice for the pain, if ... if you want it ?"

"Nah ... I'll be fine. I've had far worse injuries than this, Dagonet, believe me ... Just get it over with. The quicker you do it, the better. Yeah ?"

"If you're sure ... ?"

"Sure I'm sure. Wouldn't have said so if I wasn't ..." John growled softly. He ran a tired hand through his short, dark hair agitatedly. "Please ... can we just get this done, huh ?"

Dagonet simply nodded and deftly threaded a needle, then leant closer, muttering, "Well, don't say I didn't bloody warn you ..."

_**XXXXX**_

Afterwards, Dagonet pulled away and critically studied the Hunter's back with a professional eye. The wounds thankfully, appeared better and he'd tightly bound the ones that had needed suturing, to keep them clean. All the while, he'd been suturing the wounds, John hadn't flinched once. Had barely moved and endured the treatment in stoic silence. The only time he'd reacted had been when Dagonet had lowered his head to bite through the thread. His warm breath had caressed the Hunter's bare skin and the older man had trembled in awareness of the Roxolani's close proximity.

"So, what's the verdict ? Will I live ... ?" John asked gruffly, a slight twinkle in his eyes and a faint grin playing on his lips.

"So it would seem," came the husky reply. "Though _not _for long if you persist in hunting on your own ..." The obvious concern was all too apparent in the Healer's expressive pale eyes

It had been years since anyone other than family had watched him with such concern. The fact that a comparative stranger was genuinely worried about his welfare touched John deeply. That someone other than his beloved sons cared enough about him ...

"I can take care of myself ... I've always taken care of myself ... I ain't about to quit now ..."

"Well, maybe you fucking should ..." Dagonet spat coldly. "If not for yourself, then for the sake of your boys ! You_ owe _it to them. I don't know about your youngest lad, but it's obvious Dean loves you. He damn near worships you. Would do anything for you. The least you can do is try to keep yourself safe. For_ his _sake ..." He abruptly moved away, deliberately creating distance between them.

"Why do you do that ?" John asked quietly, shifting on the bed, craving to be within touching distance of the tall Sarmatian. Yearning to be close to him. It was a need which he found puzzling as he tended to keep everyone at arm's length. Not wanting to become close. To be responsible for someone else's welfare and safety. And now, here he was, fighting a losing battle against a deep and intense attraction towards a stranger. A man ...

"Uh ... Do what ?" Dagonet refused to meet his gaze and fidgetted uneasily.

"Avoid me ... You've been doing it ever since Dean and I got here." John rose from the bed and cautiously approached the Healer. Dagonet found himself backing away from him, then suddenly felt the chamber wall rough, cold and unyielding against his bare skin.

"Easy ... I'm not going to hurt you. Just want to know why you're running scared, 's all. Never thought I'd see a knight - a Roxolani warrior no less - back away from anything ..." John leant forward, his left arm braced against the wall close to the Healer's head, effectively trapping the other man. Blocking his escape.

"I'm not running scared and I haven't been avoiding you," Dagonet quietly denied, unable to look away from the darkly handsome Hunter.

"_No ... ?_" John raised a sceptical eyebrow and inched closer. "That's a load of bullshit, Dag and _you_ know it. You've done nothing but bolt or try to keep a very low profile whenever I've been around. And I want to know why. Why do I make you so skittish ?" The guarded behaviour and the knight's endearing shyness was slowly beginning to frustrate him. He reached out his right hand and lightly traced a path down the vicious scar that disfigured Dagonet's face with the back of his fingers. Dagonet immediately held his breath. Torn between shying away and breaking free of the older man's touch, yet yearning, wanting so much more of it.

"I ... I like you ..." Dagonet finally admitted, his voice so soft that John had to strain to hear it.

"What ?"

Dagonet bit his lip, briefly averted his gaze then with a gentle sigh, looked steadily at John with a candour that took the Hunter's breath away. "I said I l-liked _you._"

John gave a rare smile. One that made his eyes burn with a warmth of passion which made Dagonet swallow hard. If he'd thought the Hunter was handsome before, he now looked breathtaking. Smiling was clearly something he didn't do enough of and was a sight well worth seeing when he did.

"Guess that's another thing worth knowing," John replied huskily. "A real good thing. Considering I like you too ... _More_ than like, if I'm being honest ..." The fingers that lightly explored and caressed Dagonet's scar were suddenly replaced by firm, seductive lips which roamed leisurely towards Dagonet's ear. He took hold of the Healer's earlobe between his teeth and began to nibble it gently. Dagonet gave a low moan of need and felt John slip a strong arm around his narrow waist, drawing him closer. "I want you, my shy, wary wolf ... more than anything or anyone I've ever wanted before. You've done something no one's done for a long time. Made me want. Made me care for someone other than my boys ... And it feels so good, Dagonet. So damn good. You've touched something deep within me. Given me back something I'd lost for good ... My fucking humanity ... My ability to feel ..."

The scarred knight looked at a loss. The Hunter's unexpected admission moved him greatly. "I did nothing- "

John gently, yet firmly tilted Dagonet's chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. "Sure, you did. More than you realize, wolf. So much more ... You gave this old hunter his humanity back and a reason to live. Fuck ! I don't call _that_ nothing. Not by a long shot ..."

The Healer found himself on the receiving end of another brief, yet devastatingly attractive, smile. Then, before he could react, John drew him even closer and claimed his lips. Any protest Dagonet would've made was soon forgotten as he fell under the spell of the Hunter's kiss. It was more of a caress than a kiss. Feather-light and tender. A total contrast to the man who was kissing him. A man who could easily be perceived as hard, cold and ruthless, not warm, sensitive and caring. The pressure of John's lips increased imperceptibly, gently coaxing a response from Dagonet. He gave a low, needy moan and his arms instinctively wound around John's neck. Dagonet's long, talented fingers absently carded through the thick, dark hair at John's nape before leisurely exploring his broad, powerful shoulders and naked torso.

The kiss deepened. Intensified. Became more demanding ... Passionate ... Heated.

Eager to feel more of that toned, impressive physique against his bare skin, the Hunter surreptitiously loosened the low slung sheet wrapped around Dagonet's lean hips. John suddenly pulled away, breaking the kiss as the need for air became too great. A low moan of protest escaped from the knight's lips which sent a shiver of pleasure down John's spine. The sound alone was enough to make his blood roar and his body clench with intense need.

"God ! What you do to me ..." John rasped, running a possessive hand down Dagonet's broad chest and over the muscular ridges of his abdomen before taking hold of the sheet and slowly walking backwards. The tall Sarmatian allowed himself to be led to the bed and suddenly found himself lying on his back on top of the fur covers, with the Hunter straddling his hips. Dagonet propped himself up on his elbows and studied John with darkened, lust-filled eyes. All traces of shyness forgotten, the only thing on his mind was the half-naked man poised above and eyeing him with equal hunger. Dagonet laid a hand upon a tautly muscled, denim covered thigh and absently rubbed his palm against it. John swiftly seized his wrist, then lowered his head until his forehead rested against Dagonet's.

"You could well be the death of me, Healer," he murmured, releasing Dagonet's trapped hand so that he could play with his right nipple, teasing it into a painfully hard peak. Dagonet slowly smiled, then raised a hand to rest against John's cheek, revelling in the feel of the salt 'n' pepper beard tickling his sensitive skin. John turned his head and brushed his lips against the Roxolani's palm.

"Well ... as a healer, that wasn't my intention," Dagonet said softly, reluctantly withdrawing his hand, then lightly raking his forefinger across one of the bindings wrapped around the Hunter's broad chest. "You need to be more careful ... There's only so much my touch is able to heal and- "

"And ... ?" John prompted, lightly resting his palm directly over Dagonet's pounding heart. The scarred Sarmatian's face was grave. Contemplative. His eyes weary, yet still full of concern.

"And I'm loathe to see you come to any harm. Especially if it proved fatal."

John sighed. He couldn't deny what he'd heard had been anything but the truth. That he was so consumed by what he did - by hunting - that he either forgot or neglected to take care of himself. That he owed it to his sons to stay alive. Hell ! He even owed it to himself. And now ... Now that he'd finally met someone ... Someone he was seriously considering letting into his life ...

"I can't make any promises, 'specially ones I know I won't be able to keep, Dagonet. All I can promise is that I'll try. It's all I can do." It was then he noticed how tired Dagonet looked. "You look shattered. I'm gonna go. Thanks for fixing me up. Appreciate it ..." Whether it was late, or it was his imagination, but he could've easily sworn he'd seen a flicker of disappointment in those unguarded, silver eyes.

"Y-You don't have to ... Go, I mean ..."

"Yeah ... I do. Neither of us are in great shape right now. You're knackered ... I'm a fucking mess. If I stay, sleep is the last thing we'll be doing- "

"And that would be a bad thing ?"

John shook his head and grinned. "Not bad, just crazy ... but in a good way, y' know ?" He rolled off the gentle giant, reached for the ripped plaid shirt and winced as he shrugged into it. He stood up and watched Dagonet who'd propped himself up against the pillows. Seeing the scarred man lying sprawled amongst the furs, sent a bolt of lust directly to his groin. Dagonet might be shy in many ways, but he was also clearly unaware of how much of a temptation he could be. John groaned inwardly.

"Well, if you're going to bugger off ..." Dagonet shrugged his impressive shoulders and bit down on his lower lip. "Don't forget you'll need to have those wounds checked and re-dressed daily- "

"Yeah ?" John moved with a panther-like grace to loom over the reclining knight.

"Aye ... Meet me here tomorrow night. The others will be at the tavern ..." Dagonet said nonchalantly, his long, sinewy legs shifting beneath the sheet as he turned to lie on his side. John leaned down and gently cupped Dagonet's scarred cheek and in a rare moment of tenderness, tilted Dagonet's head up and softly, fleetingly, brushed his lips with his own.

Pulling away, he lightly caressed Dagonet's cheek and whispered, "Tomorrow ..." then quietly left the room, leaving his drowsy Healer to his rest.

**Finis**


End file.
